


Wayward Sons

by renegadejaybird (vitious)



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Talon (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Hunters, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitious/pseuds/renegadejaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce adopted them into the business, a bunch of lost souls turned into soldiers.  They sacrificed everything to save other people, to kill the things that nobody else understood or was aware of.  Now they’re alone and things are slowly spiraling out of control and their survival may no longer be an option. **Indefinite Hiatus**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Road Again

**Author's Note:**

> Their ages have been modified. Damian is 16, Tim is 22, Jason is 25, and Dick is 27.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”  
  
His words are soft, his head bowed as he stares at the gun in his hands, his fingers stroking over the blessed metal, the runes of power as well as warding.  Its twin is laying in his lap, beautiful and deadly, black as night and accented in twining silver, and, as he stares down at them he lets the silence stretch between them.  He allows his eyes to scan the weapons that aren’t his, weapons he’s delivering into the hands of another, though they don’t quite know that yet.  After all, he’d always been one for theatrics.    
  
“I killed someone today.  Someone that didn’t deserve it but is better off for it.” he breathes, head turning slightly to peer at the silhouette through the meshed fabric that separates them.  “I killed them so I could get something, something that could save a lot of people.  I think… We have that in common.  Saving people.”  
  
There’s a long, pregnant silence, one that makes his lips twitch in amusement, before the priest responds. “There are many ways to serve the Lord, not many conventional.  However taking an innocent life—”  
  
Suddenly he’s lifting his hand, pressing the gun against the fabric, making a decent indentation, cutting the other man off. “Father Todd.  A shadow has arisen.  Your brothers call to you.  We must unify… Or fall.”  
  
Another long pause falls soon followed by a slow, resigned exhale. “…Dick.  I thought you’d decided to go back to an honest living in—”  
  
“In the circus?  Seriously?  Did you honestly believe I could ever stop after—”  
  
“Your parents?  Perhaps it was wishful thinking on my part.  This path that you walk will bring you no small amount of torment.”  
  
“You sound older than I am, Jason.  Look… I’ve exorcised more demons this month than I have my entire life.  They’re _coming_.  I can’t stop this alone.  Are you with me or not?”  
  
Dick watches as one of the Priest’s hands lifts to press against the gun, the shape vague and dark. “…After you went through such difficulties to re-acquire my weaponry?  It would be unfair to deny you my assistance.”  
  
“Jesus.  Are you ever going to switch back to not talking like a priest?” Dick mutters, moving to tuck the guns into his black, leather jacket.  
  
“Jesus probably won’t, no.  I might.”  Jason’s on his feet, straightening his robes.  
  
“Be still, my heart, the Church didn’t kill your sass.”  
  
“It’s been dormant, waiting for a good target.”  
  
“Aaaand you’re still an asshole.  That’s comforting.”  
  
Jason disappeared for a moment before opening the door to Dick’s side of the confessional booth, one brow lifted in silent amusement. “I’m honestly surprised you survived without me for four years.”  
  
“I’m good at respecting people’s wishes.” Dick answered, following him out of the booth, allowing him to lead him past the altar of the empty Church, into a back room.  
  
“And the rest of the Brotherhood?  Did you respect their wishes?” Jason questioned, shooting a narrow look over his shoulder.  
  
“Tim graduated with honors and… Has his own sector.  Don’t look at me like that.  I didn’t do anything to encourage _that_ particular career change.”  
  
“Bruce…?”  
  
Dick stopped abruptly, causing the other man to frown and turn to him. “…Bruce’s dead, Jay.”  
  
Jason’s stomach twisted in a mixture of pain edged with guilty relief at the admission, something that just amplified the shock.  “…How?”  
  
“Possession.” Dick admitted softly, staring down at the floor.  “I was too late.  Got there just in time to watch him…”  
  
“And you’re blaming yourself.  Dammit, Dick, he knew the risks—”  
  
“If I had gotten there _five minutes earlier_ —”  
  
“But you didn’t and he’s gone.  That’s not on you, that’s on them.”  
  
“Four years in a goddamn church and you’re suddenly the voice of reason?  You have no right—”  
  
“I’m just saying you can either blame yourself… Or what actually killed him.  Listen, I wasn’t on the best of terms with him… But I know what he meant to you.  It’s fine to be upset about it.”  
  
“…Are you sure priest is your true calling?  Maybe you should be a shrink—”  
  
“Dick, I’m going to fucking _deck_ you if you don’t shut it.”  
  
“Oh, look, I think I finally found Jason.”  
  
They stared at each other, tense and annoyed, blue eyes narrow and locked, but Dick cracks first, lips twitching before bursting out into laughter.  Jason tips his head back, exasperated, before chuckling, raking his fingers through his hair, glad nobody was around to see how absolutely ridiculous, borderline insane really, they were being.  After a few moments they sobered and Dick moved to gently turn the Priest, pushing him down the hall, encouraging him to finish leading him to their destination  
  
“Well, I hope you have a car.” Jason drew a key from the collar of his robes and unlocked a door, pushing it in and stepping inside, verbally giving Dick an escape route from their previous topic.  
  
“Yeah, got a new one after the— Holy shit, I thought you said you quit.” Dick turned his head, staring at the shelves of weaponry and supplies, all of which looked as if they’d just been put there the day before instead of years prior.  
  
“I’ve done a couple exorcisms… But I did.  Quit that is.” the priest reached up, unfastening the chains that were securing his case of weaponry to the wall. “If it’s as serious as you say, though, we’re gonna need everything.”  
  
“Woah, woah.  I already have a kit—”  
  
“A kit isn’t going to do it.  You know that.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re just _assuming_ I have room for this shit.”  
  
“What?  Don’t you have the—”  
  
“Truck got trashed.  I… Got another ride cus I didn’t have to haul around your sorry ass.”  
  
“Oh, goodie.  What’d you get?  A smart car?”  
  
“Are you kidding?  Do you even know me?”  
  
“It’s a sports car, isn’t it?”  
  
“…Maybe.”  
  
“It’s a sports car.”  
  
“Look, I’m just saying that I can’t haul all this—”  
  
“Can’t you just put it in the back seat?”  
  
“About that…”  
  
——-  
  
Damian had grown like a weed in the years since Jason had last saw him, his skin darkened to a soft bronze and his body more filled out, broader; puberty had been kind at least.  That simply makes him more wary as he approaches, his footsteps slow as those deep blue eyes bore into him, a silent accusation in them.  If he had to warrant a guess, he was fairly certain that the youngest Wayne heaped quite a bit of the blame for Bruce’s death onto his shoulders.  After all, he was the one that abandoned ship, the one that left them all to their fates to become a member of the clergy instead of staying with the only family he’d ever known.  
  
“Damian.” Jason greeted, stopping several feet away from the boy.  
  
“Tt.” Damian countered, his eyes narrowing immediately. “Don’t expect a ‘Welcome Back’ from me, Todd.  We’re only here because you’re necessary, not because we enjoy your company.”  
  
“Damian…” Dick let out a soft, exasperated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got some bad news…”  
  
“When is Drake arriving for you to pawn me off on him?” Damian retorted immediately, his eyes and tone equally cold.  
  
Jason’s brows lifted to his hairline and he glanced at Dick, his gaze searching, silently demanding answers.  Their brief exchange had told him a great amount about how their relationship had changed over the years, along with the rivalry the youngest had with Tim.  There was a lot of old, festering animosity underneath every word and the priest couldn’t help but wonder what else he had missed in his absence from the life.  It was obvious that whatever it was between them hadn’t started with Bruce’s death, not something like what he was seeing, it had to have started shortly after he’d joined the clergy.  
  
“Dick, listen, I’ve got a car in storage.” Jason finally interjected, shaking his head and lifting his hands.  “I don’t want to kick Damian out of your car.  He’s earned his place.”  
  
Damian’s eyes swing to him and narrow immediately, hostility replaced surprise, the look calculating, appraising. “Grayson’s told you of what’s happening?”  
  
“He gave me a brief rundown.”  
  
“Then I will ride with you and provide a more thorough explanation.”  
  
“Damian—” Dick immediately began to protest, looking exasperated.  
  
“Grayson, I am sixteen, not five, I believe I can handle the trivial task of getting Todd up to speed.” the youngest of their group snapped, brows furrowed in annoyance.  “Besides, I don’t really want to be in your presence right now.”  
  
Jason glances from Damian to Dick, watching the hurt, then the pained resignation as the older man sighs and softly agrees.  Swallowing thickly he glances at Damian who’s almost as tall as him now the boy who’s shot up and filled out in the four years since he’d last seen him, and he sees himself.  He sees someone who’s had to deal with being the baby brother, the incompetent fuck-up for too long, and it makes him hesitantly reach out and gently grip his shoulder, keeping his eyes as neutral as possible.  
  
“Alright, then.  Let’s take a walk and pick up my car.  We’ll be back, Dick.” Jason murmurs, eyes never leaving Damian.  
  
“Fine.” Damian answers, their gazes locked in a momentary clash of wills.  
  
Jason, for once in his life, backs down with a smile.  
  
——-  
  
It’s a twenty minute walk to the storage shed where his car is kept, but he figures that Damian could use the time to stretch his legs and vent some pent up aggression.  Dick had looked rather hang-dog when they’d left, but, deep down, Jason knew that the older man had understood why they’d gone off together.  They’d all changed during their years apart, but Jason had changed the most out of all of them, growing calmer, a little wiser, and more patient than he’d ever been.  Yes, there was still that part of him that itched for a cigarette, that liked fast cars, guns, and liquor, but there was that other part of him that pushed it away in favor of peacefully helping others.  
  
Jason and Damian had never been close.  In fact they’d only met a couple of times as Bruce tended to step between them frequently, most likely trying to keep his rebellious tendencies from rubbing off on his biological son.  He knew that Bruce had always favored Dick, the good son, the perfect hunter that always followed orders, that always followed the code, that never abandoned ‘the family business.’  However he hadn’t imagined that it would have gotten even worse after he had left, but, apparently, it had, especially if Tim had left, if even temporarily.  
  
“There anything I should know about the past four years that Dick isn’t telling me?” Jason finally breached the awkward, tense silence between them, keeping his gaze calm as he watched the younger man.  
  
“I doubt I could summarize it accurately in the few minutes it will take to reach your car.” Damian answered, brushing off the question easily.    
  
“I can already can tell that this is going to be a wonderful car ride.  Really.”  
  
“Just because you’re more tolerable than being pawned off on the closest trustworthy hunter doesn’t mean I find your company enjoyable.”  
  
“You and Tim still fighting?”  
  
There’s a long moment of silence before the younger man snorted, his shoulders relaxing a little. “…No.”  
  
Jason’s brows lifted at that, surprised before he chuckled and shaking his head. “Wow, things really have changed.”  
  
“Grayson has changed.”  
  
Damian’s tone results in Jason casting a curious look his way, but he opts not to dig further; he figures that he’ll find out eventually considering they were making the trip together.  He allows silence fall between them as they walk down the road, the area oddly deserted, deciding that perhaps it would be better for him to observe what was going on instead of trying to needle it out of the sixteen year old.  Finally they reach the shed and he unlocks it, pushing open the steel doors, his lips curving up in a smile as he reached into a box setting on one of the shelves.  Jason retrieves a set of keys, twirling them on his finger, before reaching out for the tarp that he knows is covering the vehicle that he used for only a few short years when he was deemed old enough to have his own equipment.  
  
With a quick motion he jerks the tarp away, tossing it carelessly aside to trail his fingers over the black metal, smiling a little; she still shines in the light, just as he left her.  It’s a 1970 Barracuda, it’s body sleek and black, small, red stripes towards the back the only color in the darkness. Her interior is all deep red leather, surprisingly clean considering everything she had been through… Then again, he supposed that red hid blood fairly well.  After a moment he mentally shook himself and looked back to Damian, arching a brow at the younger man, noting that, for once, there was no derision on his face.  
  
“So… Regretting your decision to ride with me, yet?” Jason teased, lips quirking.  
  
“No.” Damian answered, still staring at the car, hesitantly reaching out to brush his fingers over the hood. “Is this…?”  
  
“She’s mine.  I bought her and the rest of my equipment when I went solo for a couple years.  I was tired of Bruce’s rules and regulations, so this was how I got away from it.”  
  
“So it’s yours.  Completely yours.”  
  
Jason’s expression sobers a little at the younger man’s words and he reaches out, gently gripping his shoulder. “Everyone should have something that’s theirs.  You don’t have a kit or anything?”  
  
“I… No.  Dick says it’s too soon.” Damian answers, still staring at the car.  
  
“Well, I’m not Dick, and you’re not hunting with me without your own gear…  So we’re going shopping at the first town we hit.  You got it?”  
  
“If you’re looking to buy my affection—”  
  
“I’m not looking for your affection, just your respect and your ability to cover my ass.” Jason sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Look.  If you’re in this, if you’re my backup, I’m not going to treat you like a kid that needs coddling.  You travel with me, you take care of yourself, you defend yourself, and we watch each others’ backs, okay?”  
  
Damian’s eyes are narrow, suspicious, as he stares at him before he gives a quick, curt nod in response. “I understand.”  
  
“Good.  Now get in and let’s get out of here.”


	2. Walk the Line

Jason should have known better than to expect Dick to not object to Damian traveling with them.  He’d taken one look at his car, crossed his arms over his chest, and given a rather vehement ‘no’.  Now it was the Priest’s job to try and convince the man that he’d looked up to for so long, that he’d considered an older brother for even longer, that he was being a stubborn asshole.  Damian wasn’t really helping matters, though that shouldn’t have surprised him, really.   
  
“Does that thing even have air conditioning?” Dick gestured dramatically to the ‘cuda, shooting Jason a disdainful look.   
  
“It’s called windows, Princess.  It’s just until the next city, Dick.  What’s the big deal?” the priest retorted, looking incredulous.   
  
“The big deal is he doesn’t want you to have your own car, he doesn’t want you to run off like last time.” Damian muttered next to him, drawing an annoyed look from the eldest of the three.   
  
“Damian that is _not_ what this is—”   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
Jason stared at the teenager next to him, absently noting that he was already almost as tall as him, and sighed, shaking his head.  There was a lot of potential in Damian for him to be a good, hell great, kid, if it weren’t for the fact that be was being pulled in two different directions by two different parental figures.  Dick would never admit to it to anyone, but he was probably feeling Bruce’s loss the most and had most likely taken it upon himself to raise Damian.  However, unlike Bruce, Dick tended to be overprotective and want his younger siblings to rely on him instead of being independent, instead of being good hunters on their own, instead of taking care of themselves.  Basically if Dick kept throwing his weight around he was going to get them all killed.   
  
“Alright, Grayson.” Jason cut in, stepping between them, eyes narrow and posture tense. “This is fucking stupid.  You’re acting like an overprotective mama bear of a fucking sixteen year old.  You were _twelve_ when you did your first exorcism and you’re telling me a sixteen year old is too young to ride in my car because it doesn’t have _air conditioning?_  Are you even listening to the shit that comes out of your mouth?”   
  
“Jason—!” Dick began, his expression quickly shifting to old, bitter anger; that was better.   
  
“Just admit you’ve got a stick up your ass when it comes to me and get over it.  You want me on this mission?  Then Damian rides with me like a big boy.” Jason practically snarled, invading the older man’s space, eyes narrow and never leaving Dick’s.   
  
There was a tense moment of silence between them before the other hunter’s hands came up and abruptly shoved Jason backwards roughly, causing him to stumble.  Eyes narrowing and fists curling, Jason stared hard at his older adoptive brother, more than happy to settle some of the old, bad blood between them right then and there.  To his surprise Dick simply lifted his chin and marched back to his car wordlessly, giving neither permission nor condemnation, much like someone else they all used to know; Bruce had left his mark on all of them in a way.   
  
“Get in the car.” Jason muttered, his eyes still fixed on Dick’s back as he strode back towards his Barracuda.   
  
Damian surprised him by wordlessly obeying him, apparently not wanting to test his luck more than once in one day.  Once upon a time that wouldn’t have stopped the youngest of their defective little family, and he would have searched long and hard for the right button to push to piss him off.  Honestly he was glad that the teenager had developed tact while Jason had developed patience in those four years, leaving him wondering what Dick had gained over the years other than massive amounts of guilt and bitterness.  Once he was in the driver’s seat, the door to his car firmly shut behind him, Jason reached forward and curled his hands around the steering wheel, his eyes clenching shut as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.   
  
“You’ve changed.” Damian commented, causing Jason to open his eyes, shooting the teenager a narrow look. “You would have punched him before.  You’re different.”   
  
“Yeah, well, it’s not too early for that.  However, I am still a _priest_ despite my colorful vocabulary, so I tend to reign in the violence a little more.” Jason muttered, adjusting the collar of his shirt, the collar that showed he was of the clergy, beneath his leather jacket and sighed, glancing back at his church.  “Got a bad feeling about this, though.  Dick’s freaked out, Bruce’s dead and you’re not equipped nearly as well as you should be.  He’s gonna get us all killed.”  
  
“Dick knows what he’s doing.”   
  
Jason turned his head again, frowning as he stared at the teen, noting the way he quickly looked aside, then out the window of the car.  There was a connection there that he’d missed and, briefly, he wondered if he’d done damage to the tentative truce he’d had with Damian with his comments.  However he quickly, mentally, waved it off and turned the ignition of the car, lips quirking a little when the engine roared to life; just like old times.  
  
——-  
  
 _Maine - 5 Years Earlier_  
  
“You can’t be fucking serious.” Jason ground out, eyes narrowed as he looked between Bruce and Dick, noting the look they exchanged.   
  
“Jason.  You’re going to stay by the car as backup.  Is this going to be an issue?” Bruce countered, anger building in his narrowed eyes. “Considering the mess you made—”   
  
“Bruce.” Dick cut in, placing a hand on their adoptive father’s arm, that touch far too familiar for Jason’s tastes. “That’s not fair.  Let’s just go, okay.  Jay, we’ll be back out soon, but we need you to watch for stragglers outside the nest.”  
  
“Whatever.” Jason muttered, leaning into the car to retrieve his machete, the one he’d bought with his own money and sharpened after every use. “Just fucking get it done.”  
  
That left Jason leaning against Bruce’s Charger, eyes constantly scanning the treeline as the shrieks from inside the building began.  If he was being honest he wasn’t expecting any trouble from the trees, not when it was daylight, despite the fact they could tolerate the sun.  In fact all of the vampires should have been sleeping, thus it made little sense for him to wait outside, the only reason for him doing so being the fact that he’d supposedly screwed up the previous mission.  
  
Over the years Jason had begun to accept that he was always going to be the least-loved son, that street punk that was too rough around the edges to be the prodigal sons that Tim or Dick were.  Even Damian was held above him when it came to competence, though, deep down, he knew it was because he was the one that always questioned Bruce and his methods, unlike Damian.  No matter what the other man did, it would never make up for the time that he left him for dead and at the mercy of demons, in favor of saving Dick, yet Bruce still ridiculed him for every mistake he made, every imperfection he had.  
  
As if on cue, Jason heard his name being called by the older man, causing him to turn,eyes widening when he noticed the unconscious form of Dick in his arms.  He was covered in blood and scratches along with more jagged lacerations and ragged puncture marks.  With a snarl of rage Jason quickly shucked his jacket and removed his shirt, his eyes narrow as he ripped the fabric apart, nodding to the ground.   
  
“Put him down!” Jason snapped, infuriated that, yet again, it was one of _them_ that was paying the price for the mission.   
  
“Jason—” Bruce began looking guilty and placating.   
  
“Fucking put him down and grab my fucking machete.  All you’re good for is killing shit solo.  Us going anywhere with you is a death sentence.” Jason snarled, kneeling next to Dick when he was set down, checking for the most severe of the injuries.   
  
Jason didn’t bother to look at the older man’s face as he tended to his adoptive brother’s injuries, most of which were deep, but not fatal, thankfully.  Despite that he worked to stop the bleeding, his eyes moving from the unconscious man on the ground and the entrance that they had fled from; Bruce dragging Dick out of there had probably been an afterthought and had probably only been done after the mission was completed.  Finally, he tied off the last of the makeshift bandages and picked Dick up, his eyes meeting Bruce’s across the car, knowing his were still narrow and infuriated.   
  
“Once we get him to the hospital I never want to see you again.  I’m fuckin done with you.” Jason bit out, watching the wince on those normally emotionless features before Bruce’s face slipped back into neutrality.  
  
It took twenty minutes to get to the hospital and another ten to get Dick inside.  Bruce never visited after he dropped them off.  
  
——-  
  
“Did you hate Father?” Damian questioned twenty minutes into the drive; they’d both been quiet after the episode with Dick.   
  
“You sure you want the answer to that?” Jason questioned, his voice neutral and controlled; if Bruce had ever cared and had still been alive, he might have been proud.   
  
“I do.  He said that you two stopped hunting together a while before you became a priest.” Damian murmured, glancing at him, the look curious. “Is that true?”   
  
Jason’s mind flipped through images of pale skin, gaping wounds and blood, his hands tightening a little on the steering wheel. “Yes.”   
  
“What made you—?” the teenager began only for Jason to shoot him a sharp look.   
  
“One too many fuck ups.” Jason bit out, letting off the gas a little; he’d been going twenty over.   
  
There was a drawn out, uncomfortable silence before the boy spoke again. “If there is something I should know about my father, I… Would like to know it.”   
  
“As much as I’d love to swap stories, I’m really not in the mood, Damian.” Jason muttered, taking note of the sign they passed; fifty two miles to their destination.  
  
“…We’ll discuss the mission then.”   
  
Smart kid.  Briefly Jason wondered which part of Bruce Damian took after, but he had to backpedal and remember that he’d been raised by a family friend and only briefly visited by his father.  Oddly Bruce had kept his actual son out of the line of fire but had thrown his adopted sons right into the fray.  In Jason’s mind it spoke volumes about what kind of man the elder Wayne had become after the loss of Selina and Tommy, both in the same night, along with his unborn daughter; nasty business that.   
  
“There’s been demonic signs in three nearby states, the greatest concentration of which has been in Wisconsin…”   
  
Wisconsin.  He’d killed a werewolf there once upon a time with Tim.  Part of him missed Tim, the stable, level-headed, sane member of their awkward little band, and the most technologically savvy out of all of them.  No doubt he’d changed from being that awkward teenager that he’d…   
  
“…We believe that they’re all gathering in one place which would be this town here, New Diggings.  Grayson and I believe they’re there for something dealing with Saint Augustine Church since it’s one of the older—”   
  
“Hold on, Saint Augustine?  What other states did you say the signs were in?” Jason interjected, brows furrowing.  
  
“I didn’t.  The other states are Iowa and Illinois.” Damian muttered, shooting him a curious look. “Why?”   
  
“Samuel Mazzuchelli.” Jason muttered, brows furrowing. “He built churches in all three of those states, including Saint Augustine.  Had to deal with a few of them, that’s how I know.”  
  
“How did we not see—” Damian began, brows furrowing.  
  
“Tim would have, but I’m guessing Dick-Head doesn’t like to drag him along.  This is why he’s going to get us all killed.  See what I mean?” Jason grumbled, shaking his head. “You have a phone right?”   
  
“Yes.” Damian answered, immediately digging for it it. “Who?”   
  
Straight and to the point.  Jason was starting to like this Damian. “Tim.  Dick can fuck himself right now, honestly.  Tim should have a mobile office in his Bronco.  Pass what I just told you on to him so he can get some automated searches digging up some dirt on this.  We’ll have some reading to do once we hit La Crosse.  We’ll get a motel, start the research, then take you to get some guns.  Count your lucky stars that I’m a priest, kiddo.”   
  
“Don’t call me that.  Also why?” Damian countered, his fingers quickly moving over the phone, texting Tim the information.   
  
Jason’s lips curved in a grim smile. “Because I have a feeling we’re going to need all the blessed weaponry we can get.”


	3. Riders on the Storm

Jason really needed to make a list of things he hadn’t missed when he quit hunting and, at the very top, he’d put ‘living out of cheap ass motels’.  If he was being honest the one that Dick had picked out wasn’t horrible, but it still brought back memories; bad ones.  Honestly the only thing he could think of to be thankful for when it came to their motel room was that it was large enough to fit all the gear they needed.  
  
It shouldn’t have surprised him that Dick was giving him the cold shoulder but it was still obnoxious.  Jason was fairly certain that if there had been another occult specialist that he could call, he would have called them.  Sure, they could make one another laugh sometimes, could pretend like nothing was wrong, but there was a lot of bad blood underneath it all, especially after the incident that had landed Dick in the hospital.  Not that that one, isolated incident was the sole reason that they rubbed each other the wrong way.    
  
Thankfully the tension between them, which had been simmering for a close to an hour, faded a bit when the door opened and Tim walked in. He looked tired, but he still managed to offer them a smile and a weak greeting.  Jason swallowed thickly , staring at Tim, his eyes sliding over him, noting the way he’d filled out, how he’d gotten taller, how his face had shifted from boyish softness to harder, more mature lines.  Tim’s gaze slowly shifted from Dick to him, their eyes locking, and there was a familiar tension there, one that was an awkward blend of desire, trust, and annoyance.  Almost immediately his mind wandered to the last hunt they’d gone on together.  
  
 _Tim’s mouth was urgent, his grip on Jason’s arms firm as he pinned him against their motel wall, smearing it with blood. Most of it wasn’t theirs.  Jason moaned, straining against the hold on his arms, eyes clenched shut as he bucked his hips, his breathing already ragged, body running on adrenaline and primal satisfaction.  Tim’s hands suddenly moved to his hair, fisting in it, clawing at his scalp, freeing Jason to run his hands, bloody and covered in dirt, over the younger man’s back and neck.  They clung to and fed off one another like men starved or they might have seemed possessed if they didn’t both have anti-possession markings on their body.  For a moment they didn’t care about the job, didn’t care about the bad blood in the family, all they cared about was that they were alive, about warmth, heat, and physical comfort that neither was comfortable enough to ask for._     
  
“ _Finally._ Took you long enough,” Jason muttered, going for a smile, something that eased some of the tension in Tim’s shoulders. “How was normalcy?”  
  
Tim offered him a tired smile, moving to set his bag on the bed Jason had occupied; little victories were the best. “Too normal.  A priest, Jason?  With your vocabulary?”  
  
“Hey, I have restraint,” Jason retorted, still grinning, noting the confused look Damian was shooting them.  
  
“Sometimes,” Tim agreed, eyes hooding , going distant, which simply made Jason’s grin wider, until Dick reached out and gently gripped Tim’s shoulder.  
  
“Got time to run over that data?” Dick was smiling at the younger man and it made Jason’s smile practically disappear.  
  
“I…  Yeah, Dick, I’ve got time,” Tim answered, allowing himself to be guided to where he’d set his equipment down.  
  
“Man, give the guy a break.  He looks like he’s about to drop dead,” Jason muttered.  
  
Dick looked back at him, his face completely neutral and indifferent. “We don’t have time, Jason.  You know the demons could be mobilizing as we speak.”  
  
Jason narrowed his eyes before climbing to his feet and grabbing his old, leather jacket, glancing back at the youngest of them. “C’mon, Damian.  Let’s go track down some food.”  
  
“He’s not going—” Dick began.  
  
“If you’re going to fucking make him hunt then it’s about time you let him go places without you.  You’re not his _father_ _,_ ” Jason bit out, satisfaction rolling through him when Dick flinched.  
  
“You sonuva—” Dick practically snarled, straightening, his fists curling at his sides.  
  
Damian stepped between them, his eyes narrow. “He’s right.  I should be doing things on my own.  Let’s go, Todd.”  
  
Jason kept his eyes on Dick as he opened the door, holding it for Damian, and began to follow the teen outside.  Dick’s eyes were full of pain and fury, which didn’t make sense until a few things suddenly clicked into place, making Jason close his eyes before slamming the door behind him.  However, he wasn’t prepared for the fist that collided with his jaw when he turned, one that immediately made his temper flare as he gave Damian an incredulous look.  
  
“Look here you little—” Jason began, practically snarling it as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand; no blood, thankfully.  
  
“You don’t know anything about my relationship with Grayson,” Damian snapped back, fists curled at his sides. “You weren’t even there for most of it.”  
  
“Funny how everyone has fucking abandonment issues when I _leave_ ,” Jason muttered, rolling his eyes before heading over to his car, dismissing the argument for the moment. “Nobody questions _why_ I left.”  
  
“If you’d had a good reason, Grayson would—” Damian began as he followed, entire form radiating fury.  
  
“You suckin his cock too?  Like father like son?” Jason bit out, unlocking and practically throwing open the door to his ‘cuda, cruel satisfaction rolling through him at the shock on the teen’s face. “Oh, you didn’t know?  How’s it feel to be the most unobservant fucker on the planet?”  
  
For once, Damian seemed stunned, frozen and speechless, his eyes wide with shock, then hurt.  Jason stared for a long moment before glancing aside, hating himself a little, struggling to rein in the fury he still held for both Bruce and Dick.  Unfortunately there was no longer a Bruce to take his anger out on, just his son, and, really, it was probably unfair for him to shove so much negativity the kid’s way.  They’d never been close, even before he’d joined the clergy, but Damian was far more lost and alone than even Jason had been back then, and he’d been the least favorite ‘son’ of the group.  
  
“Whatever.  What Grayson does in his free time doesn’t matter.  I’m just an occult specialist, shouldn’t even be here,” Jason muttered. “I’ll get us supplies.  Go help Dick and Tim.”  
  
There was a long moment of silence and, when Jason looked back up, Damian was slipping back into the motel room.  Jason’s shoulders slumped and he slid into the driver’s seat of his car, slamming the door shut and leaning back, his eyes slipping shut, familiar guilt writhing in his gut.  He’d thought that maybe his years with the clergy would have taught him patience, would have taught him to rein in his temper, but less than twenty four hours with his old ‘family’ and he was falling back into old habits and behavioral patterns.  He rubbed the bridge of his nose before shaking his head, letting out a gusting sigh, and moving to turn the ignition. He still had business in town to attend to and it would give him time to think.  
  
Thankfully the rumble of the Barricuda’s engine calmed him to a degree, as did a dose of nicotine, which made his trip to the gas station easier.  He picked up the essentials that they would need, including salt and bottled water, along with a few sandwiches for them to munch on, and headed for the counter, hesitating and slowing his steps when he caught familiar scent.  Shaking his head he set his items on the counter, attempting to peer around into the back room in search of the cashier, only for his blood to run cold when he felt a hand slide up his spine.  
  
“Jason,” a familiar, female voice cooed from behind him, her fingers toying with his hair.  “I thought we had an agreement.”  
  
“Talia.” Jason heaved a sigh, glancing back over his shoulders, staring into the woman’s marbled, crimson eyes. “Look, I’m not helping—”  
  
“Ah ah ah.” Talia wagged her finger at him, giving him room to turn around, placing his back to the counter. “If you’re with them, you’ll help them, I know you.  Don’t try to weasel your way out of this one.  This is much bigger than you.  I suggest you get into your car and drive back to your pathetic excuse of a church.”  
  
“Aaaand if I refuse?” Jason questioned, lifting a brow.  
  
Suddenly Talia’s hand was around his throat.  Jason scrambled to remove her grip before he choked  “I kill you.”  
  
“Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus—” Jason choked out, his nails clawing at the demon’s hand, watching the way she stumbled and attempted to tighten her hold. “Omnis Satanica Potestas, Omnis Incursio—”  
  
“You _dare?!_ ” Talia snarled, her hold on him wavering a little.  
  
“Infernalis Adversarii, Omnis Congregatio—” Jason smacked her arm roughly when he felt her hold weaken. Her nails tore into the skin of his throat, leaving bloody cuts in their wake, but he could breathe again. “Et Secta Diabolica, Ergo Draco Maledicte, Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Secura—”  
  
“If you finish… this…” Talia snarled, grunting in pain as she staggered towards him. “I will kill—”  
  
“Tibi Facias Libertate Servire, Te Rogamus, Audi Nos!” Jason finished, stumbling back against the counter. Smoke poured from the woman’s lips, the body that the demon had used slumping to the floor.  
  
Shaken by the encounter, Jason fumbled with his wallet and slapped enough money to cover his items on the counter, snagging a bag, and leaving with what he’d come for.  He gave a soft prayer of thanks that nobody else was around to see what a mess he was, to see the blood now stained the collar and top of his shirt, the jagged scratches, the bruising.  However, as he slipped back into his ‘cuda and started the engine, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of excuse he could conjure.  Unfortunately he still had jitters from the encounter and had trouble focusing, which left him sitting in his car, staring blankly at the sign of the gas station, his mind whirling.  
  
Jason practically jumped out of his skin when his phone rang, blaring AC/DC, leaving him wide-eyed and fumbling for the device.  He finally managed to draw it out of his pocket, staring warily at the ID, noting that it was blocked, his throat working as he contemplated not answering it.  Finally he answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear slowly, his heart hammering, as he tried to remember his alias, faltering for a few awkward seconds, before he spoke.  
  
“This is Chris,” he managed, attempting to sound as calm as possible.  
  
“Such a naughty boy you’ve been, Father,” came a voice from the other end, deep and refined, one that he didn’t recognize but turned his blood to ice all the same.  
  
“I think you have the wrong number,” Jason tried, forcing his voice to remain steady.  
  
“I’ve been watching you.  I saw everything, Father.  Do not believe that you will go unpunished.”  
  
“Seriously, man, this is weird.  Try calling a phone sex line or something if you’re into that freaky—”  
  
“I will pick apart your family, piece by piece, until you are all alone, then I will take my time with you.  Your blood will be the finest of wines and your screams the most beautiful of music.” the voice on the other end breathed, the man’s tone low and full of malice. “I always keep my end of my bargains, Father.”  
  
The line went dead before Jason could respond. He dropped the phone and suck in a quick lungful of air, his heart hammering in his chest.  After a moment he quickly shifted the gears in his Barricuda and pulled out of the gas station, ignoring the speed limit as he raced back to the motel.  His hands were white-knuckled as he gripped the steering wheel, fear making his throat constrict, making his stomach twist in knots.  Just like years before, back when he’d decided to join the clergy, everything was going to hell, and Jason wasn’t certain that he had a way to stop it this time.  
  
——-  
  
Damian’s mind was a tempest of questions and emotions when he entered the motel, ignoring the curious questions from both Dick and Tim, and headed for the bathroom.  He closed the door behind him and locked it, leaning back against it and taking a steadying breath, head tipping back.  It helped that the bathroom was so small, that he could be in an enclosed, secluded space for a while to gather his thoughts and have the illusion of privacy.  
  
It wasn’t Jason’s accusations or his comments about Dick and his father’s relationship that had shaken him.  It was the raw, bone-deep rage in the man’s eyes, the hurt that had radiated from his entire form, the malice that had been behind each word.  While Damian had been young when they’d first met and the encounter had been brief, he had always thought that Jason was a strong, determined, competent, and caring member of the family, who always had more of a place than Damian himself did.  However, looking at the way comments about Dick and Bruce got under the man’s skin, he had to wonder if there wasn’t more to Jason leaving that he hadn’t been told.  While the logical part of him agreed with that train of thought, another, tinier, younger part of him was still upset that the man who he’d looked up to so long ago was just as much an outcast as he was.    
  
With a soft, angry snarl he pushed away from the door, bracing his hands on the sink, and stared into the cheap, dirty mirror of his bathroom, chasing the features that he shared with his father.  He was the last of the Wayne family bloodline, the one that had to survive, the one that had to carry on the Hunter legacy, yet he was far outstripped by all of the other men.  He’d been sheltered, kept out of the fray as much as possible, and now there was no time to stop and bring him up to speed, no time to dig up dirty secrets or to actually know any of them.  Now he’d upset the one person that had offered him assistance, had jumped to the defense of the only father figure he had that wasn’t dead, despite not knowing any of the history between any of them.  Careless and thoughtless.  
  
Clenching his eyes shut, he let out a frustrated snarl as he raked his fingers through his hair roughly, tugging hard, ignoring the pain in his forehead and scalp.  He wanted to continue his father’s legacy, he wanted to be the son who grew and became as good of a hunter as Bruce had been, perhaps even better, but he couldn’t, not when he was in Dick’s shadow.  Unfortunately Dick couldn’t see past Damian’s age, couldn’t see past the fact that Damian was Bruce’s son and needed to be taken care of. He couldn’t even see how much Damian knew already, how capable he already was.  Nobody really saw Damian’s potential except for Jason: even Tim still thought of him as a child first and an asset second, and he knew he needed to change that.  
  
Damian stared hard at his reflection in the dirty mirror, his anger only building as he took in his too-small form, his too-slender arms, the youthful curves of his face.  His lip curled in a furious snarl, his eyes narrowing, as he gripped the sink again, his hands curling tightly around the porcelain, a sudden, childish urge to destroy the mirror, the sink, everything coming over him.  Damian held onto his frustrated anger, nurtured it, built it as he stared hard at the mirror, knowing that he had to get this bout of rage out of his system before leaving the bathroom.  
  
Suddenly the mirror cracked, slashing his reflection in half.  He sucked in a startled breath and stumbled backwards, nearly falling into the shower in the tiny bathroom.  Color drained from his face as he quickly glanced around the bathroom, throat working as he swallowed nervously, checking salt lines, smelling for sulfur, anything.  There was no trace of anything demonic, no sign that had been anything but a fluke, which let him relax a little before frowning and moving towards the mirror, tracing the crack with his fingers.  
  
“Tt.  This place is a shit hole,” Damian muttered, dismissing the crack as a sign of poor maintenance and age. His anger seemingly having dissipated for the moment, Damianmoved to unlock the door and head back into their room.


End file.
